


Better Now?

by kenophilic



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Dicks, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Shame, gil is so ashamed, so much shame, technically oz isn't underaged but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenophilic/pseuds/kenophilic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil pines, and Oz laughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Now?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrimJune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimJune/gifts).



> i hope you like this rimi it's almost as gay as you

It started innocently.

  
It always started innocently, when it was Oz, after all.

The boy had pulled Gilbert down onto the bed with him half an hour ago after they'd left Alice sleeping in the other room, and there'd been absolutely nothing he could do about it. Not that he minded, of course.

It was getting late, but Oz never cared, staring up at the ceiling and talking about anything and everything that came to mind. They hadn't bothered to change into their nightclothes, and Gilbert couldn't even find the strength in himself to point out that they probably should. Oz was too caught up in explaining how badly Break had gotten into Alice's head today, how he'd needed to throw his arms around her to stop her from attacking him.

It wasn't like it was that enrapturing of a tale. But Gilbert still couldn't look away. His eyes sparkled with every laugh, brows furrowed as he tried to recall the smallest details, his lips curled into a smile, his fingertips dipping up underneath the shirt riding up past his belly button...

Gilbert's face turned pink as he turned his gaze on the pillow instead. That wasn't right. He shouldn't be staring like that. Honestly though, it was a bit rude of his master to just push his shirt all the way up like that. He seemed to be content enough with just trailing his fingers over his stomach as he spoke, and soon enough, his eyes were closing as he faded into the next story. Gilbert listened, as always, humming in response when he needed to and trying not to look too much at the way the boy's stomach contracted when he brushed his fingers a bit too lightly over his navel.

He swore he was listening to him, hanging off his every word. He swore that he was paying attention, that his heart didn't skip a beat when Oz's hand slid down to the edge of his pants this time, almost dipping under the waistband. He held his breath when Oz's delicate fingers lingered just a few moments longer there, only letting it out when they touched his ribs again.

He shouldn't have been watching like this.

There shouldn't be any kind of guilty, burning ache of longing in his chest.

He furrowed his brows and looked away, cursing himself when his gaze landed on the way Oz's lips stayed parted almost thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke again. Wetting his own lips, he tried to force himself to look away. He couldn't. It wasn't as though Oz had noticed, anyway. Why should he need to?

Suddenly, far too soon, silence had fallen across the room.

Not a moment later, Oz spoke again.

No, he didn't speak. He made a noise. A soft noise, more like a mewl, stretching out with his arms over his head, his back arching, his shirt sliding up over his stomach—

Gil looked away again.

This was illegal.

He focused his eyes on the end of Oz's sock, face burning red. He could see it slip up further from the corner of his eye, failed to force himself not to glance at the flash of his ribs. It'd ridden up too far and he bit back the urge to tell Oz to pull it down.

Chronological age or not, Oz was still a child, he couldn't even bring himself to entertain the thought.

That was a lie.

How long had he wanted this?

How long had he wanted to run his hands over Oz's sides, down to those far too prominent hipbones, down his thighs—

He cut himself off again.

The last time he got to see him like this, he was 14 and watching his master undress. Oz never saw a problem with taking his clothes off in front of his servant.

Floods of memories rushed through his head, and suddenly he was reliving all of those awful little instances he thought he'd gotten over years and years ago, all those flashes of watching Oz pull his shirt up over his head, the way he'd straighten himself up, stretch himself out so he could pull it off easier, how slow-motion and overly-exaggerated even the slightest curve in his back when he moved seemed.

Before he knew it, it was all coming back at once. Every time Oz ever pushed him into the supply closet and pressed him up against the wall, slid his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet so that Miss Kate never found them.

He remembers how _nice_ having Oz pressed all the way against him felt, how warm and heavy he was, because Oz never seemed to have a problem with leaning all of his weight on him. It was embarrassing, how much it'd get to him.

 

_Oz shifted against him, pressed close in that cramped little closet. The clicking of heels faded into the distance._

_"That was so close..." He whispered._

_Gil took a deep breath the moment Oz's hand pulled away from his lips, shaking and panting weakly. Far too close, he agreed. He hated running, no matter how often he'd forget it, chasing after his master._

_It was too dark to see, too dark to tell what kind of face Oz was making. All Gil knew was that Oz was still leaning against him, one knee between his legs, keeping him pinned there. He couldn't help but cling to the front of his shirt._

_For a while, there was only their breathing as the boys listened closely._

_The sound of clicking returned, an exasperated voice ringing through the hallway, calling out for the little heathens, as Miss Kate so delicately put it._

_Oz immediately pushed his hand back over Gil's mouth, suppressing the tiny noise of surprise that his servant gave._

_"Sh!" He leaned in to hiss it into his ear, and Gil's eyes went wide. He could feel hot air down his neck, he could smell the shampoo and the sweat and the pure adrenaline, just like electricity. Oz's hands were warm, his breath was warm, his body_ — _fitting so perfectly to his own_ — _was_ too warm _._

_The clicking faded again._

_More silence._

_"...Gil...?"_

_The boy tensed, trying to push himself further against the wall to get away from his voice. Curious, borderline teasing._

_"Oh... Gil...~"_

_It wasn't borderline teasing anymore. It was a flat out mocking purr, straight into his ear. It sent a shiver down his spine and a whimper out his mouth._

_Oh no._

_Oh, no._

_Oz could feel it._

_"M-Master, please...!" He begged. "I-It's not...! I'm not_ — _it isn't...!!"_

_Oz simply laughed, the sound like bells. Not mocking, just innocent fun._

_"It's alright, it's okay," he giggled, barely pulling away. The friction of Oz's knee moving away shifted the fabric of his own pants, making him have to bite back a gasp. He let go of his master's shirt and covered his face._

_Eyes adjusting to the dark, he could see the silhouette of Oz's head tilt to the side. He didn't have to see to know he was smiling that sweet, playful little 'everything is fine and you're silly' smile._

_"It's no big deal, Gil. Perfectly natural, happens all the time, even to me..." He whispered, like Miss Kate could still open the door any moment._

_He didn't want to think about that. He tried not to think about that._

_He failed, drawing his shoulders closer to himself._

_Oz laughed again, and it was sweet and angelic and comforting and_ absolutely not what Gil needed right then at all _. He reached up, ruffling his servant's hair_ — _and when his fingers tangled through, tugging at his scalp, it sent shocks through his skull and down his spine and straight to places it absolutely shouldn't have and he_ shouldn't _have whimpered again._

_Oz kept smiling. "It's alright, you're fine. Adrenaline does that to you, I think I read that somewhere." Of course, that's what he'd think it was. The thrill of the chase. "I'll be in my room, okay? You take care of that and come straight back to me, got it?" It didn't even seem to occur to him that it was his fault at all, and that made Gil hate himself that much more._

_He nodded quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to look at him._

_Oz only grinned, finally opening the door. Gil tried to hide himself away more, so that his master didn't have to see him in this state in plain light. But all he did was wink at him, slipping out of the closet and closing the door again._

_He stood there, silent, not moving, not breathing. Just trembling._

_Eventually, his knees felt too weak. He slid own the wall, sunk all the way down. He tried to breathe._

_His hands shook as he unbuttoned his pants, keeping his eyes closed and trying to rid his mind of everything but getting_ rid _of the damned thing._

_But he couldn't._

_All he could think about was Oz moving against him, holding a hand over his mouth and whispering in that sweet, teasing little voice right next to his ear._

_He rubbed himself harder, not remembering when he'd bitten his own hand._

_Practically curled in on himself on the supply closet floor, trembling like mad, he came._

_He tried to choke back the near-silent cry for his master and failed, ashamed._

_Gil found Oz in his room later, acting like nothing was wrong in the entire world._

_"Better now?" He teased, grinning._

_Gil turned bright red, giving a shaky little nod._

_Oz laughed, and they left it at that._

 

It'd happened in an instant, the flash of memory, and it left Gil with an awful ache in places he didn't want to think about and the worst blush he's had in years.

He's never gotten this worked up, not over anyone or anything.

Only Oz.

It's only ever been Oz.

Even while he was gone, he still had those memories, every little touch and every little whisper. Perfectly innocent and perfectly damn _obscene_ , and he was disgusting. It wasn't hard to imagine. He had plenty of recollections of Oz holding him, grabbing him, pushing him against something without caring about being gentle, ghosting his lips over his ear to make fun of him.

Every girl he'd been with since then had always been a pretty little blond with bright green eyes and a devilish smile and he didn't realize why until he was 19, and when he figured it out he decided he wasn't even going to look at anyone else ever against because they s _till weren't him_. He'd been utterly disgusted with himself this whole time.

He's driving himself mad like this, just because Oz's shirt rode up just _barely_ , he's such a horrible person and he hates it, he hates what Oz does to him.

All he wants is to reach over and brush his hands over the boy's waist. He wants to feel the curve of the hips that have been haunting his fantasies for over a decade now, he wants to slide his hands down his thighs and push them up, spread his legs and lean over him. He isn't sure when he started fantasizing about things like that, like pinning him down and having his way with him, but it might've been when he realized he was getting older and that his memories of Oz were suddenly so much smaller and younger than his own body was becoming.

He could picture it so clearly, how Oz's eyes would open in surprise. He wouldn't try to shove him off or pull away at first—he never would. He never has, not for any reason. He never pulls away from Gil. He can already see the way his face would color red as he realized what that look on Gil's face meant. Not like he'd have much time to register that, not with the way he'd press their hips together. Not much, not forcefully, just enough to push himself down against his master, closing them together while he leaned down and kissed him hard and deep, just like he's been wanting to do for years and years now.

He wants to pin him down, kiss him hard, grind against him and feel the way he arches up and moans into his mouth, desperate and maybe even a bit confused, wondering what started this or even why it was happening. He wants Oz to kiss him back, snake his arms around his shoulders and pull him closer until they're moving together, moaning, and all Gil wants is to lean his forehead against Oz's shoulder and hold his knees, pushing his legs up and _god_ , he wants to drive into him, again and again and again until Oz is mewling and whimpering and nearly sobbing beneath him.

He wants to _fuck_  him, he wants to make him cry in ecstasy and cling to him and hold back desperate shouts as he buries his face in Gil's neck. It's all he can think about, picturing it so vividly, lacing his fingers through Oz's and peppering his neck and shoulders and his jaw with kisses and rolling his hips slowly, pushing in as deeply as he can each time to be sure that Oz is _his_ , that he never forgets.

He wants to hold him tight and kiss him and make love to him and whisper every word about how he's felt for ages now, how deeply, madly he's in, how he's always been and always will be. He can hear every word so clearly, every detail so perfectly—

 

"Gil?"

His eyes widen as he realize that Oz is sitting up now, rubbing his eye and watching him sleepily.

"Are you alright?"

Gil can't even answer, his face burning. He opened his mouth to speak, his hands shaking. The words wouldn't come out.

"I... I-I, um..."

Oz glanced down. He raised his eyebrows.

The worst part is, he grinned.

The first thing out of his mouth was simply " _Wooow_ ~ Gil really _has_  gotten big while I've been away~"

Gil bites back a scream of embarrassment, pulling the blanket up over his lap.

"Young master, that's—That's inappropriate, don't, it's not, i-it, it isn't...!" He tries to protest, feeling more like the 14 year old he used to be than he has in ages. He feels like he just might cry.

Oz slipped out of bed, lazily and languidly, stretching properly one more time.

"Well, I'll leave you to that. I'm gonna go use your shower, if you don't mind...!" He started walking, looking over his shoulder. "Good luck!" He grinned, winking at him before he closed the bathroom door.

 

He's certain he can't be more horrified, still spluttering protests and trying to deny it.

He's wrong when he buries his face in the pillow, clutching it tightly and listening to the soft sound of humming over the noise of the shower as he touches himself, and he comes gasping Oz's name without holding back, letting the pillow muffle his sins.

 

Oz comes back after the shower, wiggling his brows and looking like he knows all the secrets in the world. "Better now?" He teased, looking ever so amused with his hair wet and his towel around his waist as he searches for a new set of clothes.

Gil only gives a weak, flustered grumble, not looking at him as he nods.

Oz only laughs, and they leave it at that.

**Author's Note:**

> a little rushed probably, but ive had the rough draft in my documents since april last year and i just wanted it over with already so i just spat it out in about half an hour


End file.
